


Mr. Grumpy Pants

by buttheyrebrothers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Grumpy Dean, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3354101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttheyrebrothers/pseuds/buttheyrebrothers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you ask Sam, there is nothing more adorable than a grumpy Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Grumpy Pants

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the most amazing Rose (http://whoaeasytiger.com/) as a Valentine's Day gift.  
> She's also the artist of the drawing below which inspired me to this fic because BUTT FRECKLES.

[](http://postimage.org/)

Dean was in an exceptional shitty mood. Yesterday sucked and not in a live-affirming way either. Friday the 13th and who would have guessed that it really was a cursed day. He even searched the whole bunker for hex bags because no way could be so much misfortune happen by chance. It started as soon as he woke up, bent over some book about curses (how fitting), and was so disoriented that he just fell off the chair, and dragged on the whole day with burning food, tripping, accidentally throwing his toothbrush away instead of the empty toothpaste, hell he even managed to staple his finger instead of some papers. When he finally went to bed his head was aching and he felt like crap, angry at the world at large.

Waking up was not something he was looking forward the next day, still grumpy as hell. So it was no wonder that light tapping against his door made him grumble something unintelligible and hide under his pillows, hoping Sam (because who else could it be) would just go away and let him hide in peace. Of course, as a Winchester, there was no such thing as getting what you want. He heard the door open and footsteps coming closer to his bed. Maybe Sam would get the hint if he just ignored him? It was worth a try, so Dean did his best impression of a lifeless part of furniture and hoped against his better judgement that it was convincing enough. 

“Dude, stop hiding, you’re being ridiculous!” Sam accused in an exaggerated tone.

“Your hair is ridiculous. Now go away, harass someone else.”

His statement followed silence. The longer it dragged on the more annoyed he got.

“Take a picture if you want something to stare at.” He knew he was being mean and that Sam didn’t deserve this treatment but goddammit he was entitled to a bad day, wasn’t he? He would apologize in his own manly way later, a pat on the back and some semi-healthy diner. 

He finally heard some more footsteps but instead of leaving his room he felt his bed dip beneath Sam’s weight. Puzzled he still refused to leave his hiding place under his pillows, even if air was becoming as rare as honest politicians. Immersed in his musings he startled when a hand touched his hair gently and began to run over his neck and back, slowly dragging till it reached the line of his sheets. This made him look up finally.

“What the hell are you doing?” he grumbled. He was not in the mood for stupid games.

“I’m getting you out of your funk even if you are adorable when you pout like this.” Sam replied with a smug grin, dimples out in full force. 

“I’m not pouting and I’m sure as hell ain’t adorable. And why are you looking so smug, huh?”

Instead of answering Sam just leaned in close. Nothing more. He just came to a halt mere inches from Deans face and ‘what the hell?’ Dean thought, scowling. And that’s when Sam kissed the tip of his nose, just a small gentle peck. 

But that wasn’t something Dean would let him get away with, hell no. So without further thought he just grabbed Sam’s soft grey hoodie and hauled him down to plant a real kiss on his brother’s lips. 

That would show him. You can’t just kiss someone’s nose and don’t expect any consequences.

If he thought that would send Sam away he probably was more delusional than he thought. Because instead of jumping up and wiping his mouth - like Dean would have done – he just deepened the kiss and oh my god was that tongue? 

After exchanging some hot kisses (and more spit than Dean wanted to think about) Sam suddenly stopped and stepped away. 

Dean’s sullen and tight-lipped face did nothing to intimidate him. Quite the contrary because Sam just chuckled softly and began to undress. 

“You still look way too sullenly. Let’s see if we can change that.” And with that Sam was climbing on the bed again straight over Dean’s upper thighs. “Relax. I’m not gonna bite you, except you ask me real nicely.” 

He then proceeded to let his lips flicker over his backside, lasting no longer than a heartbeat and reaching everywhere at once. 

“I love your back Dean. It’s so broad and strong. You’re like Atlas with the weight of the world on your shoulders and you’re the only one strong enough to hold it. I just wish you’d let me help you to carry this weight from time to time.” Sam sounded soft and gentle, not accusing. Loving.

“I love that your skin is still so soft despite the armor you made for yourself to protect you. I love that I can caress every inch of it, smell it, kiss it. I can feel that you are alive and with me.” More kisses, this time lasting longer. The hint of tongue.

“But most of all I love your freckles. You hated them when we were younger but I always thought they were like stars scattered over your skin, constellations only I could fathom. I thought if I would look hard enough they could tell me all the things you didn’t want to, maybe couldn’t tell me. Someday I’m gonna count them all, kiss each and every one of them.” 

And his lips seemed to try to make good of this promise already, slowly moving down from his shoulders over the long curve of his lower back, moving the sheets away to get to the dip above his ass. Here he stopped for a second before his tongue started to trace wet patterns over his skin, making his skin a canvas and painting his heart and soul on it. 

Dean began to lose himself in the sensation of being worshiped (there was no other word for what Sam was doing to him, treating every particle of his frail human beingness like it was precious). His shitty mood was long forgotten and the first real smile of the day began to grace his face.

And in this very moment Sam decided to bite his ass cheek. 

“Son of a bitch! What was that for?” he demanded indignantly.

Sam, asshole that he was, chuckled again. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. Did you know that you have butt freckles? They’re so adorable, I could eat you up right now.”

“Hmpf” was Dean’s eloquent reply.

“I love you too, Mr. Grumpy Pants. Happy Valentines Day.”


End file.
